


So Right

by britishmenaredestroyingmylife



Category: Unrelated (2007)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Sex, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Shameless Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 02:42:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2451746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britishmenaredestroyingmylife/pseuds/britishmenaredestroyingmylife





	So Right

“What do you think our kids would be like?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Do I need to cut you off, Oakley?”

“No, I mean, hear me out.” He pours another shot and downs it quickly; I roll my eyes. “Like, let’s say we’re in an alternate universe where we’re lovers, and we got married or whatever, and we had kids. Can you imagine how fucking awesome they’d be?”

“I’ve never thought about it,” I lie. I wiggle my toes in the grass and stare up at the sky. We’re sitting on lawn chairs near the pool at his house; his family’s gone for the weekend and when his latest fling canceled on him at the last moment, he called me demanding that I come over to get drunk with him. His exact words were, “Get over here and pull some best friend duty, Sullivan.”

So I’d come.

“They’d be, like, insanely smart. I mean, you’re a fucking brain trust, and I can hold my own all right. They’d be good dancers. You look like you know how to use those hips.” He winks at me and I give him a shove.

“Why are we talking about this, you idiot?” I murmur.

“They’d be  _crazy_ fucking good-looking. Like, our children would be…  _hot_.”

I laugh. “Your children, maybe.”

“Are you kidding? Look at you. You’re fucking gorgeous. I still can’t understand why you’re single.”

 _Because I’m in love with you, you stupid fucking asshole._ “Gimme.” I hold my hand out; he passes me the tequila and I take a swig straight from the bottle, relishing the harsh, smoky burn down my throat.

“Sullivan.”

“Oakley.”

“Have you ever thought about it?”

“About what?”

“About us.”

I keep my expression blank, continuing to stare upwards at the brilliant night sky. “Sure.”

“No, honestly.” He turns on his side to face me, tucking his legs beneath him. “What do you think we’d be like together?”

I sigh. “I don’t know, Oakley. A disaster?”

“Come on. Why would you say that?”

“Because you’re a petulant, spoiled slut and I’m a  _nice_  girl?” I give him a cheeky grin and he grabs the bottle out of my hands.

“Nice girl. Yeah. No one’s buying that, love.”

“Well, I  _am_ a nice girl.” A gentle breeze blows past us and I close my eyes, relishing the tickle of the sweet-smelling air on my skin. “Or at least, I’m a nice girl compared to you. _I_  only have sex with people I love.”

“What are you implying?”

“I’m not  _implying_  anything. I’m flat-out saying that you’ll sleep with anything with a pulse.”

“That’s not true.” He unbuttons his shirt and lies back, and I allow myself a quick once-over. The man is utterly incapable of keeping his clothes on, so it’s nothing I haven’t seen before, but I still like looking. He’s lean and pale and has just a little bit of blond chest hair, with a happy trail leading right down into his shorts that I’ve fantasized about licking more than once… “I’ve never slept with… um… well. I’ve never slept with anything  _inhuman_.”

“I love that you had to think that long about it.”

“Hey, I’ll try almost anything once.”

“Slut.” My tone has a bitterness that even I wasn’t expecting.

Unfortunately, he notices it too and sits up. “Hey. Problem?”

“No,” I reply.

“It sounds like you have problem.”

“I don’t.”

“Sullivan, what the fuck?” he sighs. Then he gets a wicked look in his eye. “Oh my God. You’re _jealous_.”

I scowl at him. “What?”

“Sullivan,  _darling_ , if you’d wanted to fuck me, all you’d have to do is ask,” he says teasingly. He gets up and starts tickling me. “I had no idea you longed for my…  _tender caresses_ …”

I want to be mad but I’m fundamentally incapable of sustaining anger around Oakley, and he knows it. I giggle uncontrollably as he continues tickling me; finally I get up and run across the lawn. He gives chase.

“I’m a… what was it… petulant, spoiled slut, am I?” He tackles me to the ground and his fingers reach under my arms, then up my neck, and I’m laughing so hard my sides hurt. “At least I can make the so-called nice girl  _squirm_ …”

“Oakley!” I squeal. I’m rolling around underneath him, trying to escape, but suddenly he’s pinned my arms to the ground, still straddling me. I look up at him and see something in his eyes I’ve seen before… but never directed at me. “What?”

“Sullivan, why didn’t we fuck when we first met?”

I’m taken aback by his frankness, but I recover and shrug. “I assumed it was because you didn’t want to.”

“No, I definitely did. I thought you weren’t into me.”

“I definitely am.” I immediately bite my tongue. “Was. Sorry. Was.”

He releases me and stands up, and I follow suit, silently cursing the damn tequila for my Freudian slip. I start to walk back to the lawn chairs but he grasps my hand and squeezes. “Sheila.”

I still and try to remember the last time he used my first name.

“Just hang on a minute.”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“About what?”

He rolls his eyes impatiently. “You just said you were… you know… into me.”

“Slip of the tongue.”

“Sheila.”

“Why am I  _Sheila_  now?” Suddenly I’m furious – at myself, at Oakley, at the whole damn stupid situation which I can’t believe I’ve gotten myself into. I yank my hand away. “For six years now it’s always been Sullivan! I’ve been Sullivan, best friend, drinking buddy, platonic bullshit blah blah blah!”

He stares at me open-mouthed.

“ _'Sullivan, bring some vodka over, the girl just dumped me.' 'Sullivan, this girl won't leave and I've got shit to do, how do I get her out of my bed?' 'Sullivan, I'm trying to bang the blonde in the corner, can you go talk me up a bit?'_ Oakley, I’m a person! I have feelings! Sometimes I think you just want me around to listen to your bullshit and buy you alcohol and make it easier for you to get laid!”

He squints at me like I’m an alien life form he’s just now seeing clearly for the first time.

I slump, defeated. “Look, I love being your friend, okay? This is just… something I have to get over. I need to work it out on my own. But now that you know… I mean, I get it if you don’t want to be around me anymore because it’s weird, or whatever.”

He draws close and reaches for my hand. I flinch at his touch, but I don’t pull away as he entangles his fingers with mine. I refuse to meet his gaze, instead staring at the ground.

“Sheila. Be honest with me. Is this what you want?”

I shake my head. “I don’t want meaningless sex, Oakley.”

“That’s not what I mean. I’m capable of more, you know.”

“I haven’t seen proof of that.”

“Not yet.” Before I can react he has an arm around my waist and he’s kissing me, and oh my God how is he  _so fucking good_  at this, and why has no one ever kissed me like this before, and what am I doing, this is so stupid, I need to stop this before…

“Oakley.” I pull away.

“What?”

“I mean it. I know you. I’m not one of your flavor-of-the-week bimbos.” My voice is steady even as my body craves his.

“No, you’re much more,” he murmured, his eyes fixed on mine.

“Am I?”

“So much more.” He kisses me again, and to my own surprise I let him, my body relaxing into his welcoming arms. I feel his tongue probe my lips and I part them to give him access, allowing him to explore my mouth. He’s pressing into me and I can feel myself getting more and more aroused as I start to experience the realization of my fantasies. He pulls away for a moment. “Sheila Sullivan, may I take you to bed?”

This simple question, said in a tone I’ve never heard from him before – low and gentle – gives me shivers. I’m shaking but I’m nodding, and he’s leading me inside the house, to his bedroom where I’ve spent countless hours hearing his stories, listening to his music, getting drunk and high and falling more and more in love with the smug, arrogant bastard I call my best friend.

He kicks the door shut behind him and shrugs off his shirt before attacking me with kisses, running his hands through my hair and then over the thin cotton of my dress. He presses his hips into me and I can feel him through his cargo shorts; he’s already semi-erect, grinding into my thigh as his lips move down to suck at the juncture of my neck and shoulder. I run my fingers through his tangle of curly blond hair and try to steady my breathing. My head is spinning as I try to process everything at once, and I feel his fingers at the hem of my skirt.

“May I?” he breathes.

I nod, and he pulls my dress up and off. He exhales slowly as he lets his eyes roam leisurely over my frame; I’m wearing nude boyshorts and a pink polka-dot bra, and although I defeat my impulse to cover myself, I can’t stop the words that escape from my mouth. “I’m sorry.”

He locks eyes with me. “Sorry? What for?”

I stare at the ground. “I’m sorry I’m not… I don’t know.”

“Don’t apologize. You’re beautiful. And I want you.” He steps closer to me and unhooks my bra, letting it fall as he cups my bare breasts in his hands. His long fingers toy with my hardening nipples, brushing them and tweaking them, and I gasp when he takes one into his mouth. I can see his erection tenting the front of his pants and I reach down to unzip them. He’s without underwear, as usual, and his cock immediately springs free as the the shorts pool around his ankles. He moves to my other breast, nipping and sucking as I ghost my hand over his length. He gives a little hum of pleasure into my skin as I grip his shaft and start stroking him. His skin is velvety soft and slick, and as I stroke I flex my fingers and give him little squeezes every so often. He bucks into my hand as his mouth worries the sensitive skin at my neck.

Finally he reaches down and removes my hand from his cock; then, he drops to his knees and starts to pull my panties off. I step out of them, leaning against his shoulders so I don’t fall, and the next thing I know his hands are planted right under the swell of my ass and his tongue is probing me, lapping at my clit. I moan and fist my hands in his curls as he sucks me, his mouth like heaven as he draws the hardened little nub between his lips. He knows exactly what he’s doing and for a brief moment I thank God for whatever woman taught him how to use his tongue.

I can feel myself getting closer but I want to prolong this, I don’t want to come yet… I want to come with him while he’s inside me and so I yank at his curls, guiding him back upwards. I kiss him and I can taste myself on his lips, and it’s so incredibly hot that I need him  _now_ , inside me, fucking me until I can’t move, but all I can say is, “Oakley…  _please_ …”

He climbs onto the bed and sits with his back against the headboard, and motions for me to join him. I crawl over the bedspread and straddle him, grasping his hardness and running the tip up and down my slit. His eyes close and his face looks almost angelic as he lets out a soft moan. He encircles his arms around my waist and kisses my collarbone before moving to suck and bite at my neck again. I know I’ll have bruises tomorrow but I don’t care. I start to sink down on him, bracing my hands on his shoulders, and I’m trying to contain my desire to ride him into next year like I’ve been dreaming about forever because I want this to last, because this might not be real, because I might wake up at any moment and find out this is yet another idiotic dream.

But it’s not a dream, because I can feel him inside me, I can feel his heat pressed up against me and his cock stretching me out and his fingers digging into my back. I start to move slowly, rolling my hips against him, and he presses his forehead to mine as his breathing speeds up.

“Oh, my God,” he whispers. “Oh my God. You feel… oh my God…”

“Talk to me, Oakley,” I groan. “Tell me how it feels.”

“So good… tight… perfect… like I’ve… come home…”

I move my hips faster and he reaches down between us to finger my clit. I grit my teeth and ride him harder, and his grunts and moans are pushing me higher because it’s real, it’s real, we’re having sex and it means something and he might even love me and if he does then that’s all I want, that’s all I need out of life, just for this man to love me, even if it’s a little, even if it’s only for a short time… I  _need_  him…

He hooks his forearms under my shoulders and grasps them, pulling me tighter against him as he meets my movements with thrusts, filling me up until I can’t take anymore. I reach down to my clit, making agonizing little circles as he starts to take over, fucking me harder and faster. The bedsprings squeak in protest as our movements grow more desperate, and I can tell he’s close because he’s muttering a steady stream of profanity while his thrusts get shallower and quicker.

“I’m… going to… I’m…  _fuck!_ ” he yells as he slams me down one last time. I press on my clit with my thumb and fall right over the edge, my cunt contracting and releasing around him, drawing a strangled cry from his lips as he spurts deep within me.

He holds me in a tight embrace, his head resting on my shoulder as I bury my face in his hair. I’m lightheaded and sated, and I want to stay like this forever. Our sweat-slicked skin sticks together when we finally start to disentangle our limbs; I collapse on the bed, completely spent, and he runs a hand over my hip as he gets into a spooning position.

“Sullivan, guess what?” he whispers into my ear.

“What?”

“I love you.”

I laugh; my brain is finally starting to process the utter absurdity of this whole situation, but there’s really only one question I need the answer to. “Really? Then why am I suddenly Sullivan again and not Sheila?”

He nuzzles the nape of my neck before replying. “Because Sheila’s the girl I want to fuck, and Sullivan’s my best friend.”

"That doesn’t make sense," I murmur as I feel sleep press heavily upon me.

"Now that you’re here in my bed… it does. To me, anyway," he replies as he presses his body into me. "Let’s sleep."

"You really love me?"

"I really do."

"Good."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes, Oakley."

"Good."

"It is… it is good." That’s the last thought I can formulate with any clarity before I finally fall asleep nestled in his arms.


End file.
